


i close my eyes and wait for the echo

by milominderbinder



Series: maia's shameless fic a day in the month of may [21]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5+1 Fic, Families of Choice, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:43:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milominderbinder/pseuds/milominderbinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Mickey protects various members of the Gallagher clan, and one time they all return the favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i close my eyes and wait for the echo

1.

With Fiona, it’s a customer at the diner.

She’s been complaining about the guy for a while, but Mickey hasn’t really thought anything of it.  Everyone has douchebags to deal with, especially in their neighborhood.  And Fiona’s just been dinner-table complaining, anecdote-complaining, about this guy who comes in every night, always tries to pinch her ass, asks for her number.  It had never seemed like a big deal.

Until the one night Mickey finds her crying.

It’s late, everyone else in bed, and she’s sat at the kitchen table, silent tears sliding down her face.  Clearly she wasn’t expecting company - the second she sees him, she jolts, sniffs and rubs the tears out of her eyes frantically, trying to cover it like she’s just tired.  He’s not fooled for a second.

“Wha’s wrong?” he asks awkwardly, hovering for a moment before flinging himself down into the chair next to her, worry churning in the pit of his stomach.  He feels like he does whenever he catches _Mandy_ crying, and it kind of hits him for the first time that Fiona - that _all_ of Ian’s siblings, they’re his family now, in a way.

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s -” Fiona says, then pauses, takes a deep breath, rubs at her eyes a little.  “It’s just this guy at work.  The one who keeps - hitting on me and stuff.  It’s not - it’s kinda freaking me out.  I mean, I have enough going without some loser who doesn’t know how to hear the word _no,_ right?”

In that moment, Mickey doesn’t say a word, just rests his hand on top of hers for a moment, on the table, and then gets up.  He makes her a cup of hot tea with lemon.  Like his mom used to drink when Terry beat on her, when he was a little kid.

The next night, Mickey waits outside the diner with a baseball bat for three hours, until the asshole Fiona described shows up.

The guy’s gonna learn pretty fast what _no_ means.

 

2.

With Lip, it’s not Lip, it’s Amanda. 

Mickey’s only even met her once before, and the first impression he’d gotten from her was _rich, bossy, thinks she knows way more than she really does._ Which hadn’t meant he didn’t like her - he did, especially the way she bossed Lip around.  But still.  She hadn’t made that much of an impact on Mickey, who had a lot worse things to worry about at that point.

The next time he sees her, though, she makes an impact.

Mostly because she’s stood at the front of the alley by the Kash and Grab, being cornered by two guys holding knives and heading for her purse.

Mickey barely has time to swear under his breath before he makes up his mind about what to do.  Ian must _really_ be turning him soft, he decides, as he hurries across the street.  A year ago he’d _never_ have stuck his neck out like this for a random chick he’d only met once before.

When he’s across the street, he pulls his gun out of the waistband of his jeans, and aims it straight at asshole number one’s head.

“Hey, fucker, you might wanna leave this chick alone.”

Mickey vaguely recognises the two guys.  They were in his brother Tony’s class at school, and Tony had even hung around with them a few times.  He doesn’t know any more than that, though, except that they’re pretty dumb and come from a family nearly as rough as his.

Not quite as rough, though, which explains why their faces pale when they see him.

“Milkovich?” one of them asks.  The hand holding his knife drops ever so slightly.  Mickey feels Amanda grab onto his arm, her quiet whimpering moving closer to his ear, and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replies, and then adjusts his hand on his gun.  “We got a problem?”

“You hanging around rich bitches now?” asks the braver of the two morons.

“Not makin’ a habit of it,” he replies.  “But this one’s with me.  So you’re gonna leave her alone, or you’re gonna get a bullet through your neck, we clear?”

There’s a few seconds where nobody speaks, the only sounds Amanda’s panicked whimpering and the yelling, gunshots and car alarms which are such common background noise in their neighborhood.  Then the two guys both scowl, and pocket their knives.

“Crystal,” one of them says, and they skulk away.

Later, when Mickey’s taken Amanda back to the Gallagher house and tried to move on from the whole incident, Lip corners him in the kitchen.  Mickey had only wanted a beer.  He figures that’s too much to ask in a house this fuckin’ crazy, and sighs.

“Thanks,” says Lip.  It looks like it physically pains him to say it, but he does.  “For earlier, helping out Amanda.  She’s not exactly used to this kinda thing.”

“Didn’t do it for you,” Mickey grunts.  Lip nods, attempts a smile, and then walks away.  He knows that’s Mickey’s version of _you’re welcome._

 

3.

With Debbie, it’s boy troubles.

Mickey’s the only one in the house when she comes in crying.  Fiona’s at work, Lip’s at college, Ian’s got a meeting at the high school to see if he can go back, Carl’s taken Liam somewhere to do something Mickey doesn’t want to know about.  So he’s just sat at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich and trying to decide what to do with the rest of his day until he can see Ian again, when the front door slams, and a mess of tears and messed up red hair comes flying through.

“Debs?” he asks, leaping out of his chair.  She doesn’t respond, just leans back against the door and puts her head in her hands, keeps crying.  “You okay?”

There’s a few seconds of no response, and then she sniffs loudly, wails, “ _no!”_

“Did - did someone hurt you?” he asks.  He can feel the rage boiling in his stomach at just the suggestion, and clenches his fists so hard his knuckles turn white.

“No,” she sniffs, rubbing at her eyes furiously, and then bursts into a fresh wave of sobs.  “ _Yes._ I don’t know.  He broke my _heart._ Does that count? _”_

And.  Oh.  That’s something he understands.

“Hey, yeah, course that counts,” he says.  He feels awkward, is only too aware of the fact that he has _no_ idea how to be gentle.  But still, he tries.  He walks towards Debbie, and pulls her away from the door, hugs her.  For a second, he’s just there, with his arms wrapped around her stiffly, her body limp against him, and it’s the most uncomfortable thing ever.  He’s seconds away from pulling away and apologising profusely, but all of a sudden she flings her arms around his waist, balling her fists in his t-shirt, and buries her face in his chest.  He holds her tightly, and lets her cry.

“Give me the asshole’s name,” he says after a minute.  Hopes she doesn’t hear how choked up his voice is.  “I’ll take care of this.”

 

4.

With Carl, he kind of brought it on himself.

In a way, Mickey’s kind of impressed.  When Carl rattles off the list of all the people he’d beaten up at school in the past week, Mickey can’t help but see his own young self reflected back at him, and has the strange urge to give Carl a high five.  But he thinks that’s probably irresponsible, so doesn’t.

Anyway, the list isn’t all good.

Because as it turns out, the smallest, dweebiest kid on it, who Carl had shoved into a locker just for the crime of existing, just so happens to have a big brother.

A big brother who plays football, who is sixteen and already six foot tall, who is a hundred and sixty hundred pounds of muscle - and, who is now after Carl’s blood.

Carl actually seeks Mickey out, to ask for advice on how to handle this - though he seems far more proud than regretful as he explains the situation.

“So, you got a gun I can borrow or something?” is how Carl ends his explanation.  He has a slightly manic look in his eyes, but he’s at least partially joking.  Mickey stares at him, unimpressed.

“No guns until you’re sixteen,” he says, which wasn’t a rule ever used in his own house, but which he thinks Ian might approve of in this scenario.  “Look, give me this asshole’s name, I’ll take care of it.”

“You gonna kill him?” Carl asks, sounding worryingly enthusiastic about the prospect.

“ _No,”_ Mickey insists, though the idea has crossed his mind.  Whatever, he likes Carl - quite apart from the fact that he’s Ian’s brother, and Ian is the most important thing in Mickey’s extremely gay life, Carl’s actually just kind of funny, and sweet in his own sociopathic way.  Mickey - well.  Mickey feels connected to him.  Kind of like family.  And _nobody_ fucks with Mickey’s family.  “I’m gonna get him to back off without fucking him up, okay.  You gotta learn the art of violence, kid.  The suggestion does way more than the act.”

Carl nods wisely, eyes widening, but Mickey has a feeling his words are sailing right over the kid’s head and unpacking their bags in the jail cell he’s bound to one day end up in.  With a sigh, he claps Carl on the shoulder.

“Just, the next time you beat on someone?” he says.  “Make sure you know who you’re dealing with.  Trust me, it’ll save you a lot of trouble in the long run.”

 

5.

With Liam it’s the doctor. 

It’s the first time Mickey’s taken him to one of his appointments.  He didn’t exactly volunteer, but Fiona had been stressing about how had a mandatory meeting with her PO and Lip had an exam and Ian had a job interview, and Ian had said, casual as anything, “Mickey can take him.”  Then he’d smiled, and Mickey could hardly argue with that.  Besides - Liam’s had regular appointments with the doctor since the whole coke thing to check that he’s not got any serious lasting brain damage, and not even Mickey’s so heartless that he doesn’t wanna make sure the kid’s okay.  Overdoses bring back some bad memories for Mickey.  He doesn’t wanna lose anyone else to one.

So, on a rainy Wednesday when he has nothing better to do, he takes Liam to the doctor.

And as it turns out, Liam has a total asshole of a doctor.  A douchey old white guy who seems to think that a poor kid from the south side who suffered an accidental overdose should be treated like shit.  He’s a child brain damage specialist, but _apparently_ he only really wants to work with rich kids whose rich parents have screwed them up, instead of kids from the ghetto who are in the exact same situation. And it's just like every single time in Mickey's life that he hasn't been  _good enough_ because of where he comes from, only it's worse, because it's  _not_ him.  He can deal with shit like that, it's okay when it's him - but Liam's just a  _kid,_ and a sweet one at that, and he's done nothing wrong.

“Okay, that’ll be all, you can go,” the doctor says, without even looking up from his clipboard.  Mickey looks at the jar of lollipops on the doctor’s desk, and feels himself boiling with rage.

“He’s _four_ ,” he says, forcing himself to breathe deep, though it doesn’t stop the rage that tints his voice.  “An’ you just jabbed needles in his arm and stuck things in his ears, and he didn’t even fuckin’ cry.  Ain’t you gonna give him a fuckin’ lollipop?”

The doctor looks up from his clipboard at _that_ , eyebrows raised.

“I -” he says, looking taken aback for a second, before recovering his composure.  “Those are for a different type of client.”

“You mean a rich client,” Mickey says.  It’s not even a guess.  He fucking _knows_ that’s what it is, and though the doctor tries his best to look offended, he fails completely.  “Liam, you want a red lollipop or a yellow one?”

Mickey doesn’t break eye contact with the doctor the whole time he’s talking.  Liam clearly doesn’t totally understand what’s going on, but he stares at the jar of lollipops intensely for a few moments, before shrugging.

“I don’t -” says the doctor, but Mickey just cuts him off with a glare.

“That’s okay, Liam,” he says.  “I think you were so brave you can get one of _each.”_

Mickey crosses the room, and takes two lollipops out of the jar - one red, and one yellow.  He stares the doctor down the whole time.  The guy doesn’t say another word.

A minute later, as Mickey’s leaving the doctor’s office, Liam balanced on his hip, a red lollipop is suddenly being waved in front of his face.  He blinks at it, confused, and then turns his head to look at Liam.

“Yours,” says Liam, smiling.  He’s happily licking at the yellow one which Mickey had unwrapped for him, but apparently, he wants to give away his second treat.

Mickey takes the lollipop with a grin.

 

+1.

With Mickey, it’s Frank.

It’s Frank, storming in drunk.  He hasn’t officially lived with the Gallaghers for ages, but occasionally, he’ll fight with whoever it is he’s shacking up with and storm back to his kids’ house, demanding shelter.  This is one of those times.  Only he’s not his usual cheery drunk, rambling drunk, the annoying kind of drunk that’s not really any harm to anyone.

He’s the angry kind of drunk, and he doesn’t appreciate the fact that Mickey Milkovich is taking up a bed in the house he still counts as _his._

So he’s yelling at Mickey to get out.  Yelling about how family is the most important thing and nobody has respect for it anymore.  And nobody’s quite sure what to do, so they don’t do _anything,_ just let Frank keep going and going and going.  Mickey can feel his heart curling in on itself with each new harsh word, though he doesn’t let an inch of it show on his face.  He’d been - fuck, he’d been starting to feel at _home_ here, more at home than he’d ever felt anywhere in his life.  He’d been starting to think of this giant group of crazy oddballs as his _family._ But according to Frank’s yelling and everybody else’s silence, he’d been fooling himself with that.

Except -

“He’s more family than _you_ are!” Debbie cries, suddenly, cutting Frank off in the middle of his slurred rant.  Mickey feels everything around him drop silent.   _Family._ Had she really said that?  His ears buzz, he can hardly feel Ian’s iron grip on his arm.

“She’s right,” Fiona says a few seconds later, the one to break the silent.  Frank looks outraged and taken aback, is waving his hands around with his mouth hanging open, clearly about to start another rant.  “We want Mickey here, you don’t get a say in it.”

“Yeah, the one we don’t want here is _you,”_ Lip adds, standing up and crossing his arms, a challenge.

“Oh, _I_ see how it is!” Frank shouts, trying to take a step forwards but tripping on his shoelace and just stumbling sideways instead.  “ _I’m_ not wanted?  In my own fuckin’ house?   _This_ is the thanks I get for everything I have sacrificed for you, being kicked out for a _Milkovich_ -”

That’s when Ian punches him in the face.

As Fiona and Lip each take an end of Frank’s unconscious body and drag him out onto the porch, Mickey looks around at everyone in the room.  They’ve all pretty much settled back into their previous positions in front of the TV, like it was all no big deal.  He figures shit like this is a pretty regular occurrence for them, that they’re used to it.  And it’s really kind of regular for _him,_ too, he’s had much worse much more often at the hands of his own father, this thing with Frank should really be a non-event in comparison.

Still.  He can’t help smiling as he looks around the room.  Then he drops back onto the sofa, pressing himself close to Ian’s side, and turns his attention back to the movie, as Lip and Fiona slam the door behind Frank and head back in themselves.

Mickey decides he likes the weird little family he’s managed to find for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> for the fic a day in may, and an anon prompt from tumblr: _I'd love to see Mickey being protective of the Gallaghers (not Ian, we all know how Mickey loves him) - Debbie or Carl. Or all of them - hurray!! :))_
> 
> send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).


End file.
